


Strangers and Magi

by Cass_The_Nerd



Series: Family and Fate [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, Culture Shock, F/F, F/M, Meddling Immortal Assholes, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Rewrite, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cass_The_Nerd/pseuds/Cass_The_Nerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Escapist fantasy wasn't supposed to be healthy, but Shaylyn Carpenter didn't care about healthy anymore. After losing her memory - her identity - at a young age, she's been raised and shaped to fit someone else's idea of perfect. However, things don't always go as planned. Bucking her guardians' chains as soon as possible, Shay left to find her own path. A long year of rejection after rejection things finally change. History needs a shove, in this case, it was a little more literal. She ends up in her favorite video game. She's scared out of her mind and is terrified of getting changing things. In all reality, however, she will probably just get herself killed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Me Tell You a Story

I hummed to myself as the credits rolled on my television screen for the 8th time. The now familiar words of I’m Not Calling You a Liar played through the room. Part of me couldn’t stop myself from singing along.

“There's a ghost in my lungs and it sighs in my sleep  
Wraps itself around my tongue as it softly speaks  
Then it walks, then it walks with my legs  
To fall, to fall, to fall at your feet”

The song finishes off and my singing stops, the apartment falling quiet. A shiver passed over me at the now eerie feeling, and I quickly moved to turn on some music or something to fill the silence. The chill, however, was not coming from the emptiness of my apartment, but from the open window. It was a strangely cold April, and pulling out my phone made me realize just how cold it was. Currently, it was -1 degree outside, putting it just 2 degrees above the record cold for the month. A layer of frost had made its home on my window, and I couldn’t help beauty admire the strange beauty of the tendrils. I shook the thought out of my head and went back to what I had been doing for what seemed like the past week.

Returning to my desk, which had become a mess of paper and pencils, with my computer sitting in the middle. It was ordered chaos, everything in a place but none of those places having any rhyme or reason. I was in a strange sense panic, trying my best to get my feet off the ground. A small buzz was heard from elsewhere, making me scramble to figure out where I left my damn phone.

It turns out it was on my sofa, which actually makes a lot of sense, since I was there not even 10 minutes ago. It's actually a text, for once in my life.

I sighed, Lena was a good friend, and a constant rock while I had to complete my obligatory quest for my freedom. I met her a couple years back on the internet, when I was a stupid 15-year-old and thought I knew everything. She’s actually the one that bought me the first two Dragon Age games. I’m glad for her support, otherwise, I probably would’ve given up already.

She was quick to respond as always, giving me another dose of her endless optimism.

I sigh, and quickly type out a reply before setting the phone down.

I walk out onto the balcony, trying to get some fresh air to clear my head. It’s cold, and I shiver. I’m not quite sure why it’s so cold in the middle of April, but part of me likes it. The colder it is, the longer I can take picture of frost and snow, and those tend to be some of my favorite.

“This is not the life that you were destined for, but you have adapted well, and you shall adapt again”

I heard the voice behind me, and I jumped, started out of my revelry with the shock of a voice I had only heard in games. I turned around, half expecting that I had imagined the entire thing. There she was, in all her slightly terrifying glory, Flemeth. I wanted to say something, I really did, but I was just frozen.

"I nudge history when it's required. This time, a shove is needed."

I was backing away from her, from her and her aura. It felt wrong and unnatural. I was pushed back against the railing of my balcony, terrified. She was right in front of me now. Suddenly, her words sank in, and I wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

She was right, a shove was needed. A shove that had me falling from the 16th story of my apartment building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 703
> 
> Edits on 3/9/18: Edited some dialogue to reflect Shay's new age, removed the original intro


	2. I'm Almost Positive This Isn't What Pavement Feels Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes's history needs a shove, I guess most people just don't think about all the people who fall over from said push.

I was falling.

I was going to die.

_ I was going to die. _

Everything felt slow. It was like my brain was processing everything too quickly. I willed my eyes shut, mostly in hopes that when I opened them, this would all just be a horrific dream. Because that’s all this could be. There was no way in hell that I was falling to my death. There was absolutely no way that I was falling to my death because a character from my favorite video games franchise had pushed me off the balcony.

Things like that don’t happen in real life.

Things like that only happen in bad fanfiction.

My life is not a bad fanfiction.

The last thing I had expected, however, was to land in a water. It wasn’t still freshwater, like a lake. It was moving, and when it got into my mouth, something was very, very wrong.

Saltwater.

There was salt water in my mouth.

I was going to drown.

How on earth did I go from falling through the air to drowning?

My god, stop thinking and swim. You are going to die if you don’t get out of here soon.

I was kicking, but it felt like it wasn’t doing any good. How far did I sink? There were black spots swimming in my vision now. My whole body felt heavy, I didn’t have enough body strength to keep doing this indefinitely.

After what felt like forever, I finally broke the surface. Just as I managed to get in a gasp of air, I was pushed back under. I tried to reorient myself when I broke the surface again, but I couldn’t see anything. The sun was reflecting off the water, shining right into my eyes and blinding me. It was getting harder and harder to keep myself above water.

I had to have swallowed more than one gulp of water at this point, and I could feel the light-headedness sinking in. I knew that this was a losing battle, I wouldn’t have enough strength to keep kicking forever. At this point, unless I was saved by boaters or managed to be near enough to shore to drift over, I would drown or die from drinking the salt water. Part of me could even hear my old health teacher reading the passage of the effects of saltwater on the human body.

"The body tries to compensate for the fluid loss by increasing the heart rate and constricting blood vessels to maintain blood pressure and flow to vital organs. You're also most likely to feel nausea, weakness, and even delirium. If you still don't drink any water to reverse the effects of excess sodium, the brain and other organs receive less blood, leading to coma, organ failure and eventually death."

This is how my life ends. A year of fighting to be free and I die from drowning? Falling? Magic? I’m not sure anymore but I know I’m going to die. Another wave, this one feeling more vicious than all the other washed over and knocked all the air out of my lungs. My brain had long since given up fighting it, too tired to continue moving my limbs, which were heavy as lead and cold as ice. My body, however, kept fighting, flailing my arms and legs wildly. I wanted them to stop, I wanted to still them and sink into the deep dark water. It was harder to not fight than it was to give up, though, with my lungs screaming out for air.

I could feel it now, the heavy blanket falling over me. Alluring and peaceful, but somewhere deep down it just felt wrong. It was crushing and horrifying, and the will to fight struck back up, much to my dismay. Without thinking, I tried to breathe and got water instead. My heartbeat had slowed, I could feel it beating unnaturally slow. Thump… Thump… Thump… The panic was gone now, my head was clear. There was nothing but the cold and dark anymore.

The first thing I did when I regained consciousness was vomit. Salty, watery, vomit. It went on and on until all the water was out of my stomach and then I hacked up all the water in my lungs. I wish I was better when all that was done, but my limbs still felt like lead. My head was all fuzzy and my heartbeat was jumping all around.

I felt like I had just been pulled out of Hell, which was probably not that far from the truth. The logical side of my brain knew that I was lucky to be alive. I knew that I had survived the odds and managed to not drown, even though I should be long dead, that I probably would be dead if I didn’t get help soon.

It was all very bright; the sun was beaming down on where I was. My head was not clearing up. It was like there was a thick smoke inside, preventing me from forming complete thoughts. Trying to blink and swallow wasn’t working either, both my eyes and throat burned from the effort.

I was dehydrated, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I would make it if I didn’t get help. Considering that I could barely move my limbs this was a long shot and was highly unlikely to happen. If I somehow managed to survive falling from the 16th story.

Was that real? Is this real? I’m starting to wonder what the hell happened. I landed in the ocean and nearly drowned.

I managed to survive falling from the sky and drowning in the ocean, but I was going to die from dehydration. I was going to pass out and I was going to waste away here. I wonder if the Carpenter’s would weep for me or would they just be sad that they didn’t get a return on their investment in me. What about my birth parents? Did they care about me or was abandoning me in the city a way to get rid of an unwanted child? What did I do that made them want to abandon a ten-year-old? The worst part is that I’ll never get to know since I never managed to recover my memories of the first ten years of my life. That is my biggest regret.

As my vision blacked out, I absentmindedly grabbed the golden bird hanging from my neck. Always wondered what my parents actually chose for my name. I couldn’t remember anything when they found me and most people didn’t remember that far back at this age anyway. I know one of the nurses picked it for me off the necklace I was so attached to. I used to insisted I was a hawk, so the nurse picked a name that matched it. I was just as stubborn then as I was now, if not more so. I was never going to give that hawk thing up, so I’m glad she came up with a nice alternative.

I laid on the ground in the sun for a long while, feeling the breeze run over my skin. I should have known unconsciousness was coming soon, as now I could no longer hear the waves and the wind. I just wanted peace, it was my one wish now. At this point, the blackness was peace, and I welcomed it with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Up: It Was Just Supposed to Be a Simple Job (Marian Hawke)
> 
> Word Count: 1068
> 
> Edits on 3/9/18: Removal of Shay talking to her own thoughts, cleaned up some clunky dialogue, changed where Shay her name from, minor edits to reflect age change.


	3. It Was Just Supposed to Be a Simple Job (Marian Hawke)

All Marian Hawke ever wanted to do was protect her family. That was her job, she always knew it would be. Her father made her swear it to him, he made her promise that she would keep them safe. Sadly, she seemed to fail miserably at every turn. Even when she was a kid, she couldn’t protect her younger sister, she didn’t know why she thought that she could protect the twins. She had the audacity to think that the twins were safe, that they could stay in Lothering and everything would be okay. Then the Blight happened. Then Carver charged the ogre before she could stop him. Maybe Mother was right. Everything that happened to the family was her fault. It was her job to protect them and she failed.

Of course, life wouldn’t just give her a break. She failed again, she worked so hard to regain the family fortune, to protect Bethany. She took every odd job that was available, she earned the 50 sovereigns needed to fund the stupid expedition and then some extra to make sure that Mother and Bethany had the coin to feed themselves since she couldn’t count to Gamlen to do more than be a useless piece of thieving, gambling trash.

She should have paid more attention to the Templars, to what they were saying about her. She should have noticed that they were suspicious, that they knew something about her sister. Maybe it’s true what they say, that you can try your best but you won’t succeed. She had felt more alone than ever since Bethany went to the Circle. Bethany was rock, a constant, and she needed her around to remember why she was still fighting. All she had now was a broken promise to her father on his deathbed and a mother who seemed to forget that she was a Hawke.

It seemed silly, in a way, she was never alone, not with her little entourage. They had asked for help, and she was willing to provide, to take on their problems. They were her reason to fight now, and she wouldn’t let anything happen to them.

There was her sweet and innocent Dalish blood mage, who was too cute for words but dabbled in things that she could never understand.

She had her slightly-broody slightly-charming apostate, who may or may not be possessed and needed to be reminded to eat when he got too into his crusade.

She had her sultry pirate, who she has totally thought about sleeping with on more than one occasion.

She had her silver-tongued dwarf, who was better at lying than she would ever be. Who had gotten her out of more than one sticky situation, including her poverty.

She had her mostly broody elf, with completely justified issues and who wore spikes and in Varric’s words, was like ‘an angsty porcupine’. He also might glow when angered.

And then there was Aveline, who kept her on the straight and narrow as much as humanly possible. Who would pull her back from the brink of the abyss when she was about to fall in. It was Aveline’s fault that they were out there to begin with anyway. Some job or another that was too messy for her guardsmen. The kind of job that was handled off the books, but still in a way that Aveline could control. Hawke was too tired to remember all the details, probably because she was half awake when she agreed. Hawke had been exhausted since she had started the fight to reclaim the family estate. Honestly, she was half positive that this job was something concocted by Aveline to gets Hawke’s mind off politics and for Aveline to stop thinking about the mess that Jeven had left her to take care of.

Honestly, Hawke didn’t mind all that much. Even though the wounded coast is Hawke’s least favorite place in existence. She hated this place with all her heart. It was all sand and rock and dead plants. Every other turn leading to a dead end and everything looking the same after about 10 minutes of walking around. It spoke a lot of her friendship with Aveline to come out here without complaining. Aveline was a constant in Hawke’s years in Kirkwall, and she couldn’t be more grateful that she had run into them while fleeing Ostagar. Aveline had been a constant, and anchor to keep her from falling into despair. Someone to keep her on the straight and narrow as much as possible. The kind of person to keep her from burning down the gallows to get to her sister.

A sudden stop had everyone stumbling behind her.

“What the-”

It was a girl, soaking wet with a mop of twisted and tangled black hair the contrasted against her porcelain skin. Everyone was dumbstruck, the appearance of the pallid girl a deviation from what was planned. Anders was the first of the bunch to shake off this daze, and rushed over to see what he could do for the poor girl.

Attempting to get her water by slowly nursing it down her throat. After making sure she wasn’t going to die on the spot, he began to check her over. His brows were furrowed, and the glow from his hands casting unnatural shadows. Hawke was the second one of the bunch to get her feet to work, and though she was not gifted with magic like her sister, she did know enough to aid Anders.

The first thing Marian did was pry her hand off the necklace, and the very sight of the jewelry had her face losing all color and a small choked noise making it out of her throat. As quickly as she could, she tucked the offending jewelry into her shirt, as to not attract attention from her companions.

They knew her too well however, and they had learned all her ticks after following her around for a year.  Aveline was the one to speak up, her words tinged in a type of concern that only Aveline ever seemed to have. It was the type of concern that could only be found after you escaped a darkspawn horde and watched the others loved ones die.

Hawke felt that tinge of shame, she kind she felt whenever she thought of her biggest failure and remembered that it was her family's best kept secret. The kind she wasn’t sure she’d ever be prepared to reveal.

Eye contact was made with Anders, a silent question that was met with a silent shake of the head.

“Are you sure?”

“Not here, maybe if I got her back to my clinic, but not here.”

“We can’t take her through the main gates of the city and into Darktown, everyone would think that we kidnapped her, money or no.”

“And you’re being naïve to think that the main gate is the only way into the city. I know you know that there is more than one way into the city.”

Anders’ comment was met with a chorus of groans, because, yes, there are other ways into the city, and no, none of them are pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's a little late. I could just make excuses, I had finals, there was Christmas, something about a smoke grenade. Honestly, I just put it off until my friends were pestering me. I do feel bad and I want to write this but I have ideas, too many ideas. Things I want to do later in the story and other ideas. It makes these introductory chapters exhausting. I will try to get the next one out on time, if not, hunt me down and burn me at the stake.
> 
> Up next: What the Actual Fuck  
> Word Count: 1,194


	4. What the Actual Fuck

You know the feeling when you wake up and don’t want to move because everything is too comfortable, that was me this morning. I had the strangest dream and I didn’t really want to forget it just yet. I normally didn’t dream of anything in particular but this time Flemeth was there. I got pushed out a window and then drowned.

_Hey, I never said it was a pleasant dream, just unusual._

But the longer I stayed there the more the outside world poked into my consciousness. I couldn’t hear the sound of the air conditioner or the general bustle of the city below. Everything about the sheets was wrong. I slept under like seven blankets that were heavy enough to suffocate a small child, but I was under some sort of sheet and nothing else. I normally slept in a simple t-shirt, and a pair of panties, however as I pulled back the sheet covering me, I could see that I was now wearing what I could only describe as a frilly white nightmare.

The long white layered nightgown made me look like some sort of virgin sacrifice. The light pink ribbons down the front and around the cuffs giving me a baby doll feel. I may love looking as feminine as possible but the aforementioned virgin sacrifice feel was weirding me out.

The room was entirely dark, I couldn’t find a lightswitch anywhere. I quick peek under the heavy drapes showed that it was the middle of the night outside.

Everything about this place was wrong, there were no lights or cars outside, it was some sort of square, like I was in one of those cities that preserved their history.

I took a deep breath in and quickly exhaled.

_Even the air is wrong here._

A few cautious steps forward and a stumble over the slightly too long hem of the nightgown, I made it out into the hall. It opened up to a view of the downstairs area.

I paused, did I really want to do this, did I want to risk angering whoever had brought me here? It appeared the decision was made for me, because I could hear the heavy footfalls of someone on the tile floor and panicked.

I tried to backup, to retreat into the room I had came from, but tripped over the nightgown and banged my head on the floor, causing a clatter that caught the mystery person’s attention.

The footsteps accelerated and before I knew it, I was looking up into the face of one Marian Hawke.

* * *

I screamed. I wasn't proud of it but I screamed like a child at someone who only wanted to help me up.

_That is a first impression I'll never live down._

To her credit, she was calm, and, once I stopped shrieking, more than willing to help me up. Everything felt real, from the calloused texture of her hands to the the pain now radiating along my side.

I didn't want to believe it. It couldn't possibly be real. But my brain was nagging me with that feeling that this was right, I didn't have the words to explain the feeling but it had helped me make choices before. I wanted to trust it. Either way, I needed to be calm now, I could freak the fuck out later.

“What-”

I cut myself off, voice croaking from disuse. Clearing my throat I tried again.

"What happened to me? How did I get here?”

"You washed up on the wounded coast, my friends and I found you while we were out. I know a healer who helped you, but he couldn't keep you in his clinic. I offered."

“Why? You could have easily let me die”

“That's not what I'm about, I don't let people die for no reason.”

Her eyes flickered up and down my face, betraying her lie, halting on the golden chain that peeked out under my collar.   
What did she see in me? Did I remind her of someone?

I shook my head banishing the thoughts to be considered later. She was lying about her reasons for bringing me into her home and I was going to have to lie about my past.

Whatever happened next, I had to pull this next lie off. It would essentially be the difference between life and death

_That’s a little dramatic don't you think._

_Shut up, me. This world is different and I will probably die if I get kicked out._

“Well, you've cause plenty a ruckus and I'm far too tired to continue this discussion, so how about I escort of back to your room and we continue this discussion in the morning.”

It wasn't a choice or an offer. It was simply an order, and I didn’t have the energy to argue. Hawke led me to my room, the tapping of her shoes contrasting with the pattering of my bare feet.

The door was still ajar from when I left and Hawke pushed it all the way open, giving me room to enter. She shut the door behind me, and I swore I heard her murmur something but I couldn’t make out the words.

I hadn't realized how tired I was until I layed down on the bed and felt the fatigue finally creep into my head. The mattress was actually quite soft and it wasn’t hard to fall asleep, since I was left with nothing but the thoughts I wouldn’t let myself think.

* * *

The next morning came upon me slowly, with nothing more than light peeking through the drapes. I could feel the oddly soft texture of the bedding and last night hit me like a train. My tired brain had blocked out most of the encounter. I was desperately trying to remember what I had let slip, if anything at all.

I decided that there was no point chasing memories I didn’t had I went to take a better look around the room. It was barely furnished, with only a bed, dresser, and closet. The light that awoke me was from the one drape that I pushed open last night.

One final look showed some clothes folded and sitting on the dresser, with a pair of boots on the floor in front of them. I walked over to find a note folded on top of the clothes, which appeared to be a red blouse with lacing down the front and a pair of brown pants made of some form of fabric that wasn’t quite cotton.

The boots were leather and went halfway up my calf before folding over. All in all the outfit looked comfortable as was around, but I wasn’t sure how well the clothes would fit. I carefully unfolded the note and found it was from Hawke.

> _I hope the clothes fit, I took my best guess. I do hope you’ll join me for lunch today, I was intrigued by our discussion last night_
> 
> _M. Hawke_

I surveyed my own outfit and decided I was ready to be out of this frilly white monstrosity, even if it meant ill-fitting clothes instead.

Undoing the ribbon on the front, it slipped off my shoulders and pooled around my feet. Glad to find I was still in my bra and panties, and grabbed the blouse off the top of the stack. It followed a similar pattern as the nightgown where you laced it up so it sat comfortably on your shoulders.

The pants had a similar comfortable fit, and I had to wonder who’s clothes I was wearing. The boots were a little large, but not so big that they flopped around. I was able to comfortably wear most of the attire, and actually thought I looked pretty good.

My hair was tangled and I couldn't find anything resembling a brush, so I attempted to comb it out with my fingers. I wasn't happy with the tangled waves but it didn't look like a rats nest anymore.

I braced myself, afraid I would mess everything up, and left the quiet of my bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1,344
> 
> Next Up: Luncheon


	5. Luncheon

I never liked formal meals. The Carpenters instilled too many manners and rules for me to be able to enjoy myself. It wasn’t too bad when it was with friends, but Marian Hawke was not a friend.

My half-awake brain couldn’t quite remember what exactly I said to Hawke last night. I don’t remember having the panic of revealing something, but I didn’t like the uncertainty of not remembering. I was terrified she would think I was a demon or an abomination. At best she’d think I was a crazy mage. Without knowing her personality she could easily send me to the circle or kill you on sight.

Of course, at best, I’d end up with a quick death. At worst I’d end up sent to the circle and tortured.

Which really brought me to my next concern, what was Hawke like? She seemed nice enough, but she could easily be walking on thin ice around the girl she doesn’t know. Was she aggressive? Would she send me to the circle? Would she throw me to the sharks? There were too many thoughts running through my head for me to sort them, to control them.

What about her friends? Were they even friends? Were the companions like how the were in game? How accurate were the games? Could I change anything for the better? Would what I do have negative consequences?

I wanted to breathe, but the air felt thick and heavy and my lungs far too small. I vaguely remembered this feeling from a couple incidents before. Notably before my 17th birthday and before I told the Carpenters I was moving out.

I hated the feeling, It made me feel weak. I normally could control my thoughts so this didn’t happen but there were too many and they were all at once. Images of me dead or dying or in pain. The horrible idea that I could make Hawke’s already generally shitty life worse.

My brain wouldn’t shut up and nothing would work. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t even get them to run through my hair. I sank to the floor trying to pull myself together. I still had no idea that Digging into the floor to somewhat steady them.

Nothing was right, I couldn’t hear the sounds of the city and I was digging my fingers into tile instead of my carpet. I wanted to be back in my apartment. Hell, I would even go back to the Carpenters if it meant I would have my sense of normal back.

I can’t breathe.

_ I can’t breathe. _

Wrapped up in my little panic sphere I hadn't heard the door opening and shutting and the sets of footsteps. I hadn't heard my frantic breathing or when those footsteps grew fast and came towards me.

I wasn't even aware of someone else nearby until I felt the cool, calming fingers on my skin. I leaned into the touch instinctively, something to focus on a feel besides my traitorous thoughts.

They took hold of my hands and ran their thumbs over my wrists, keeping me from doing any more damage to my fingers or the floor. I could hear their voice but wasn't bothering to make out the words, just listening to the calming voice and slowing gaining more control over my thoughts. I hadn't bothered to even pick my head up.

I inhaled, far too shallow and shaky for my liking. Going over what usually helped the few times this had happened before.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Exhale.

I could feel my head clearing, the loud thumping in my skull receding. Pulling my hand out of the stranger's grip - which had gone slack when I started to calm - I wrapped them around my knees and dared to lift my head up, only to come face to face with yet more proof that this nightmare was more real than I had previously thought possible.

There was Hawke, looking more worried than either of the Carpenters ever had. Anders was in front of me, his brow wrinkled.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

My voice was soft and I sounded unsure of myself. I hated it, the last thing I wanted was to seem weak in front of the people I admired. I pushed my hands against the ground and pushed myself up, with Hawke rushing to my aid when I wobbled just a bit. I did my best to wave her off, but like an overprotective mother hen, she looped my arm through hers and helped steady me.

“Do you, um, do you still feel up for lunch?”

I take a deep breath, hoping that I don’t mess this up. I would look rather suspicious if I denied, wouldn’t it? How do I phrase it so she doesn’t realize that the idea of eating with her is what started that mess? I can handle it, this isn’t like before, they aren’t the Carpenters, scrutinizing my every move.

Calm down, and take another breath.

“Yeah, as long as you have a little patience with me. I’m still a little shaken up.”

“There’s no problem… I don’t actually think I’ve caught your name.”

“Shaylyn. Shay.”

“Well then, Shay, shall we.”

I actually enjoyed myself, believe it or not. There wasn’t the constant pressure of every move I made being watched and Hawke and Anders were more than willing to talk to each other and leave me to watch. Anders gave me a couple side-eyed glances and Hawke was constantly fixing me that deep stare that I pretended not to notice.

She complimented me on my attire a couple times, saying that it looked good on me. She admitted that they were her clothes, which worked because we were of a similar build. A good few inches taller, with longer limbs and a different silhouette all together, the clothes shouldn’t have fit as well as they did. I hated that I knew she was lying to me, but couldn’t confront her on it.  

Hawke looked like she wanted to say something but stopped herself more than once, but looked quite happy just watching me. I liked the company and didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t leave, I had nowhere to go. I still don’t know why she decided to help me, someone she didn’t know.

Parts of me still felt queasy and, if I stopped paying attention to it, my hand shook. It was much better than it was earlier, but it left me with that cold, unsettled feeling that made me want to run away. I tried to keep that urge tamped down, tried not to glance out the door of put more weight on my feet and shit in my chair like I was going to bolt.

The lunch was over quick enough and I hadn’t been able to plead my case for her to let me stay. Anders halted those plans, as I wasn’t sure what he’d say or how he’d react. When Hawke left me behind to say her goodbyes and send him off, I had to act fast. Pulling together the best excuse I could find, I had to convince her to let me stay.

I couldn’t come up with something satisfying to myself, so I had to fake it. Hawke was just as gracious as before, the same wistful smile and deep stare she always had when she looked at me. I didn’t like it at all, left me feeling completely exposed.

“I… I don’t know how to ask this of you, but you seem nice enough, and I was wondering if I could convince you to… How do I put this without sounding like a total freak… but if I could stay with you…? I don’t have any family and I don’t know where to go and-”

I don’t know what to say, all the words came out too fast and I wasn’t looking at her eyes and she wasn’t going to trust me if I acted like this. She was silent for a long time, too long in my opinion.

“Of course, I shouldn’t have asked, you may have helped me once but you wouldn’t just let me stay what was I thinking…”

I trailed off and tried to walk past and get out. Her reflexes were sharp and grabbed my wrist before I had the chance, stopping me in my tracks.

“I don’t see a problem with it, as long as you don’t try to kill me in my sleep. You won’t try that, will you?”

She smiles. A real full smile that lights up her face and makes her look young. How naive is she? She was offering to help and this is exactly what I wanted from her.

“Of course not, who could hurt someone as nice as you.”

The smile vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1,552  
> Up Next: Nightmares
> 
> Edits on 3/9/18: Again, edits to clunky dialogue


	6. Nightmares

Marian Hawke never thought about herself as self-absorbed. She did her best to listen to her friends, sometimes more devoted to their own ideas and opinions rather than her own. She did, however, become rather single-minded when it came to her family, she didn’t want to hear about how it wasn’t her fault because in her mind it was always her fault when it came to them.

She should have known that Carver was about to do something stupid and stopped him, she had been doing it when since he was born.

She should have been more aware of what the Templars were saying about Bethany, should have done something besides hoping that she could fix everything with some gold.

No amount of “it wasn’t your fault”s did anything to stop her from blaming herself. Their faces haunted her dreams, Carver, covered in blood with his armor caved in and his face forever trapped in horror, and Bethany, with dead eyes and a bright red brand on her forehead.

However, tonight brought the worst of all the nightmares. The ones filled with unknown possibilities and the face of a girl very few remember, the face of a girl whose name no one speaks. She couldn’t help the guilt of putting a dead girl’s face on someone else’s body, but all the similarities were there. The hair, the eyes, the necklace. But that didn’t mean anything.

She’s met people with black hair and blue eyes before, and father had bought those necklaces from a merchant who traveled, so there was always the possibilities of other people all across Thedas with jewelry just like that. Marian needed to stop but that dream had shaken her too much. A dead, forgotten girl screaming to her about her mistakes. About how she let her die.

Marian pulled herself out of the tangle of sheets that had wrapped around her legs, trying to shake the eerie feeling of being watched, of being judged. The small chest in her room opened easily, it was never locked, there wasn’t anything worth locking away inside. A tangle of yarn came out followed by two wooden needles.

The repetitive motion of knitting worked to chase some of the thoughts out of her head and eventually an uneasy darkness claimed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is this short on purpose. 
> 
> I didn't think this needed to be dragged out and adding something else too it didn't work for me.
> 
> Hopefully, I'll have time to write in between finals next week
> 
> Word Count: 383


	7. Planning

I never thought I would be able to say that I was woken up by silence, but Kirkwall was far too quiet during the night. I could hear everything, from the insects to the footsteps of passersby. The silence amplified every sound and startled me every time. It made sleeping a fright and meant my first few weeks here were nothing but hell. 

It worked in my favor in the end. I was too tired to do anything really, so I mostly spent my time walking around the house like a ghost. Hawke’s mother, Leandra had returned once while I was in the library. She took one look at me and refused to speak, avoiding as best she could. She spent as much time out of the house as Hawke did, but never tried to pretend that she wasn’t avoiding me.

Even though Hawke agreed to let me stay, she never said she would interact with me or help me in any way. To put it succinctly, I was fucked. 

It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t even all that unpleasant but there was this unspoken tension in the air that persisted every day I woke up to food in my room and no other obvious souls in the house. Sure, the silence gave me time to come to grips that this wasn’t a dream and that I (most likely) wasn’t hallucinating. 

This… wasn’t working. Nothing about this would last forever and eventually, Hawke would come to her senses and kick me out. I’m still not sure why she let me stay in the first place and eventually her passing insanity would fade and she would get rid of me. The very idea of being left to fend for myself in the streets of Kirkwall made me shudder.

I couldn’t fight, not really. Maybe, and that’s a very hard  _ maybe _ , I could take down someone who was unarmed and untrained. I wasn’t weak by any means, but someone who actually knew combat and was armed with any sort of weapon could take me out. I would be dead or worse within a week. 

No matter how hard I thought, there is just no way for me to survive here as I am. What I needed to do was ensure my ability to stay here and find some way for me to stay safe. I needed something I could use to ensure Hawke’s continued protection. I only had one real trump card here, but I wasn’t sure how to play it.

Once upon a time, I thought escaping to Thedas would be a fantasy, but in reality, it was so not worth it.

* * *

 

This is it. I have to do this. If I don’t my fate stays undecided and I stay stuck doing nothing. If I can pull this off, maybe I can change things. Even if I can’t, I can keep myself alive. Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door.

“It’s open!” comes from the other side.

I hesitantly open the door and step inside.

“Shay, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yeah… I think we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 515


End file.
